


Kiss Me Deadly

by Kangofu_CB



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon What Canon, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, I mean it's a bow tie, Kinktober 2018, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Semi-Public Sex, Timeline What Timeline, i guess?, kind of, theme: formal wear, wow these tags make this look a lot more risque than it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Kinktober fic request for "formal wear"Bucky and Clint and tuxedos, some masks and honestly the tags say it all.This fic has no redeeming qualities.





	Kiss Me Deadly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraxBarton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/gifts).



> Claraxbarton requested, enabled, and beta read this fic. 
> 
> Feel free to blame her for the abject filth contained therein.
> 
> I have tried to tag it appropriately and carefully and probably a little on the overzealous side. If I missed something, let me know, but it's mostly fluff with some dirty talk and a little bit of being tied up.

Bucky’s face itched.

 

It was annoying, but not nearly as distracting as Clint Fucking Barton.

 

Bucky’s face itched because he’d been guilted into attending Stark’s _Superhero Soiree_ , because Steve had made the face - the one that looked like you’d just kicked a puppy _right in front of him_ \- and because it was a charity gala benefiting disabled children, and wouldn’t Bucky be such a good _role model_ with his prosthetic arm-

 

The point was, Bucky had been suckered.

 

And because it was a masquerade, he was wearing a black half-mask - since anything that covered his mouth reminded him of entirely too many terrible things - that tied behind his head, like Zorro. It had been comfortable enough when he’d gotten dressed for the party in the privacy of his own room, but which was now driving him fucking bananas because he was sweating under the black cloth and it _itched_ and every time he reached up to scratch underneath it or, god-forbid, take the fucking thing off, Steve _looked_ at him.

 

The itching was actually almost a welcome relief at this point, because Clint was tormenting him.

 

He had his own mask on, a purple, domino-style thing that Bucky wasn’t entirely sure how he was even keeping on his face, since he couldn’t see an elastic strap around his head, and he kept _looking_ at Bucky.

 

It wasn’t the same kind of sad-kicked-dog look that Steve gave him, either.

 

No, this was the sort of promising look that got both of them in trouble on missions, and in Avengers’ Tower, and generally anywhere there was a flat surface - vertical or horizontal - that Clint could be shoved onto or against.

  
The sort of look that invited Bucky to show Clint _exactly_ what he wanted.

 

And Bucky wanted a lot.

 

They were in the old Stark mansion, which Tony had aired out and had professionally decorated, or rather, that Pepper had had tastefully and professionally decorated, making it look like something out of an old film noir set.  It gave Bucky a weird sense of nostalgia, though he hadn’t been around during the late 40s, at least not in the sense that anything about the decor should feel familiar, but it was making him maudlin.

 

Which, he figured, as Clint brushed past him and he felt the barest brush of fingertips along his hip, was why Clint was pushing so hard to keep Bucky’s attention.  He’d caught Bucky’s eye and given him heated looks, and brushed against him all the most unsubtle ways all night and Bucky was about the snap.

 

The other man knew Bucky too well for his own good.

 

The party was black tie, which meant both of them were dressed to the nines, Bucky in an all-black tuxedo, and Clint in something a little more traditional, something he’d jokingly called a penguin-suit, but then hadn’t let Bucky see until Bucky had stalked into Stark mansion and had his eye drawn immediately across the room to where Clint was standing next to Natasha.

 

Clint looked like anything _but_ a penguin.

 

The tux was impeccably tailored, simple black with a white dress shirt, offset by the purple of the mask, and Bucky wanted to _ruin_ him in it.

 

He wanted to snap the buttons and muss Clint’s hair and disturb all the carefully-contrived elegance that Natasha had obviously forced him into and-

 

“Dance with me?”  Clint’s voice was low, and rough, and all Bucky could think about was how it sounded like sex.

 

“I’m going to murder you,” Bucky growled back, but allowed himself to be pulled onto the floor.

 

Clint’s eyes crinkled behind the mask as his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.  “Now why would you want to do a thing like that?”

 

That smile said everything, in Bucky’s mind.  Clint knew _exactly_ what he was doing.  He leaned in closer, pressing their chests together, to whisper in Bucky’s ear.

 

“Who’s going to blow you if I’m dead?”

 

Bucky’s hand involuntarily tightened on Clint’s hip, a little jerking response that he didn’t bother to try and suppress.  Clint knew what he was about.

 

“Stark,” Bucky responded immediately, knowing it would rile Clint up.  “He’s been dyin’ to get in my pants.”

 

The soft huff of laughter Bucky got in response was less heard and more felt, damp and heated, against his skin.  

 

Clint hummed a vaguely-interested noise.  “I don’t think he can do that thing you like with his tongue though.”  

 

Lips skimmed over his jaw, followed by the barest scrape of teeth and Bucky-

 

Bucky was _done_.

 

He tugged and Clint complied, following Bucky off the dance floor and down a dark hallway without even a token resistance, as Bucky turned corners and got them as lost from the party as possible. He finally opened an unassuming door and, without pausing to even look inside, shoved Clint into what seemed to be an old-fashioned smoking room.  The walls were rich wood panelling, the furniture was leather, and crystal decanters winked from behind the bar.

 

Most importantly, it was completely empty.

 

Bucky felt overheated, his hands itching to touch, as he thought of his earlier fantasy of disheveling Clint so thoroughly no one would have to wonder what had happened to him.

 

But Steve would give him the Disappointed Look, and there were still hours of party left to attend.

 

So, completely wrecking Clint was out.

 

Clint, who looked so fucking smug Bucky wanted to-

 

Well, Bucky could think of at least one way to wipe that look off of his face.

 

He reached up and carefully undid his bow tie and unsnapped the first button on his shirt. He took a step closer to Clint and leaned up to skate his lips across the sly little smile on Clint’s face.  Bucky ran his hands across Clint’s shoulders and down his arms, stroking along the muscle he found there, before he wrapped his fingers around Clint’s wrists and pulled them behind him.

 

Bucky felt Clint’s sharp inhale, and knew that the smile on his own face was now at least twice as smug as Clint’s had been. He wrapped the black silk around Clint’s wrists and tied it carefully.

 

“You mentioned blowing me,” Bucky said, giving Clint’s shoulder a little push.

 

“I did,” Clint agreed, dropping smoothly to his knees.  “Might need you to help me get your dick out though.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes.

 

Clint could, and had, undone Bucky’s zipper with nothing but his teeth before, but a three thousand dollar Armani tux was probably not the best time to practice his oral skills.

 

Bucky had another use for his mouth, however.

 

He obligingly unzipped and untucked, pulling his already half-hard cock out of his pants, and watched as a flush spread across the bridge of Clint’s nose and he licked his lips in anticipation.  

 

Bucky shuddered, and Clint’s mouth wasn’t even on him yet.

 

Reaching out, Bucky cupped Clint’s jaw gently, his thumb resting against that sharp cheekbone, and eased him closer.

 

Clint went willingly, leaning forward and trusting Bucky to help him keep his balance as he wrapped his mouth around Bucky’s cock and _god_ that was good.  Hot and wet and Clint _moaned_ around him, the vibration chasing up his spine like an electric current.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, staring down as his dick disappeared and Clint closed his eyes in concentration and even the domino mask was hot as all hell. “You feel so fucking good.”

 

Clint hummed, a little noise that might have been agreement, and Bucky felt his breath hitch.  Felt his cock stiffen up more, as the sensation gave him a pleasant buzz in his veins, joining with the mild adrenaline rush of the possibility that they could be caught, mingling into something that crackled with anticipation.

 

“I want to _wreck_ you,” Bucky informed Clint, rocking his hips forward, pushing his dick deeper, forcing Clint to lean back on his heels for balance and let Bucky fuck his mouth.  “I wanna mess up your pretty hair and bruise your mouth and show everyone just what you need.”

 

Clint was staring up at him, gaze hazy and pupils wide and black.  He moaned in agreement.

 

“You’d like that, huh?” Bucky kept talking, rocking his hips faster, knowing they didn’t have a lot of time, and knowing exactly what Clint wanted and needed to hear. “If everyone knew what I like to do to you?”

 

Clint moaned again, his eyes drifting shut as he, somehow, relaxed even further into Bucky’s grip, tiling his head and opening his jaw wider.

 

Bucky felt the tell-tale tightening in his gut, the zing of sensation in his spine.

 

“Gettin’ close, sweetheart,” he murmured.

 

Clint blinked his eyes open, slow and heavy-lidded.  He leaned back a little more, wrapping his lips around the head of Bucky’s cock, sucking hard and then- yeah, he flicked his tongue _just so_.

 

Bucky’s orgasm felt like it was punched out of him, hard and sudden, yanked from his solar plexus as he grunted and Clint swallowed and _fuck_.

 

He was panting hard and still cradling Clint’s jaw when the other man pulled away, licking his lips and still smirking up at Bucky.  Clint was still entirely too fucking smug for Bucky’s liking. He slipped his hand from Clint’s jaw to the back of his neck and yanked, pulling the blond man to his feet and dragging him to the closest chair.  He took a brief moment to tuck his now-spent dick away, but didn’t bother to zip his pants or tuck his shirt back in.

 

Settling onto the expensive leather, Bucky manhandled Clint into his lap, his hands still tied behind his back and making his balance precarious.  Bucky pushed and pulled, arranging Clint to his liking, until he was straddling Bucky’s waist with his ass between Bucky’s spread thighs.

 

“You plan this?” Bucky asked, not really expecting or even wanting an answer.  He was busy unzipping Clint’s pants and dragging them down his hips as far as he could manage with the awkward position.  It worked well enough, Clint’s cock jutting out, the swell of his ass bare underneath Bucky’s metal palm. His shirttails were dangling over both of them, lending a bit of false modesty and somehow making the entire thing seem even more debauched.

 

Clint _looked_ debauched. He was flushed and breathing hard, his lips swollen and bitten-red, with his clothes askew.

 

Bucky fucking _loved_ it.

 

“You did,” Bucky continued, reaching into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief.  “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he accused, wrapping his hand around Clint’s dick and giving it a rough jerk.

 

“Yeah,” Clint sighed, whether in agreement or appreciation.

 

“You want me to fuck you, huh?  Mess you all up?” His hand was moving faster now, and only Bucky’s grip on Clint’s hip prevented the blond from rocking up into the motion.  “Strip you out of this suit and _ruin_ you.”

 

Clint made a strangled sound as Bucky twisted his wrist on the upstroke.  

 

Bucky shifted his grip, stretching to tease the edges of his metal fingers against Clint’s ass, tugging at the rim.

 

“Send you back to the party with my come dripping out of you?” Bucky asked, dipping his finger inside, where, he knew, it was impossibly hot and tight.  Sensations like that didn’t register with his metal fingers, but he’d done it often enough with his other hand to know exactly how it felt.

 

He couldn’t really get any depth to the penetration - the angle was wrong and they didn’t have any lube - but Clint seemed to appreciate it all the same, if the way he squirmed and arched in Bucky’s lap was any indication.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky answered for him, “you’d like that.  I could mark you up, too, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

 

Clint _whined_ , his hips jerking sharply, and then he came all over the handkerchief and Bucky’s hand, gasping for air as he rocked forward a few more times, riding out the last of his orgasm.  

 

After a few seconds he slumped onto Bucky’s shoulder, panting softly and nuzzling under his ear.

 

“Feel better?” Clint asked, sounding hoarse and fucked out.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, as he settled into post-orgasmic lassitude. He wiped his fingers off on the abused handkerchief and reached to untie Clint’s wrists.  

 

Clint wrapped him up in a hug that should have been comical, the way they were both still masked, partially undressed, and crammed into a chair that was clearly not intended to hold two men of their size.

 

Instead, it felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> OK but does anyone get the title reference? HMU, maybe I can do a small thing for you!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Kiss Me Deadly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17671967) by [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB), [thatsmysecret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmysecret/pseuds/thatsmysecret)




End file.
